'This water is still surprisingly warm,' commented Radu.

'The sun's been shining on it all day,' said Demetrius. 'It's been cooking.'

'Relaxing, though.'

Pertinax said nothing. He was probably not really listening. He had more serious issues on his mind than water temperature.

The three were sitting by the pool in an otherwise empty villa. Demetrius had asked the household to stay out late partying, and they'd been glad to comply. The band was busy making money, anyway. Demetrius had actually wanted the kids to go to bed early. Cleo and Kiki had laughed. 'You want to send Greek kids to bed before the grownups? What world do you live in? They'll nap tomorrow afternoon.' Demetrius considered himself instructed.

The moon, two days past full, shone down on the scene, reflecting off the surface of the water. It lent everything an otherworldly air. Demetrius and Radu, who were used to other worlds, appreciated the holiday from the mundane. Also the relative quiet: the sounds of raucous merriment in the town were muted by the walls and shrubbery, making the 'conspirators' feel safe from prying eyes and listening ears.

Pertinax sighed. 'I suppose I should tell you what's worrying me.'

Demetrius said, 'Please feel free. Whatever you say will go no further.' Radu nodded agreement.

The old man rubbed his head and face in frustration. 'As you know, Manius is with the VII Claudia in Dalmatia. Their camp is at Pietas Iulia right now. His commander is Lucius Arruntius Camillus Scribonianus. And that's the problem.'

Radu asked, 'Lucius Arruntius Camillus Scribonianus? Is that the same man as Marcus Furius Camillus Scribonianus?'

Demetrius shot Radu an annoyed look. Was he messing around? Radu's expression, however, was innocent – and Pertinax took no offence, but nodded eagerly. 'Yes, that's the same man. He's a natural son of one of the Furii, and very well-connected. He was adopted by Lucius Arruntius – a noble senator and long governor of Hispania Tarraconensis. Arruntius, alas, is no longer with us.'

'The Spanish?' asked Radu.

'Tiberius,' said Pertinax gloomily. They sighed understanding.

'It has been rather unhealthy to be too active in Roman politics this century,' observed Radu drily.

Pertinax laughed ruefully. 'Why do you think I live in Potentia? And why are you two hiding your lights in dark corners? We've all barely made it through the time of Caligula. I am hoping better from our learned Claudius. He may not cut such a noble figure, but there are wise thoughts behind that stammering tongue.'

Demetrius's estimation of Pertinax grew immeasurably in that moment. Most humans he knew set great store by appearance and felt that an emperor who didn't look like statue material wasn't quite up to code. But Claudius did seem to be a better proposition than the deviate and maniac who had preceded him. And, at least for now, he was the last remaining adult male of his family.

'What do you think of the idea of restoring the Republic?' he asked casually, just to sound the old patrician out further.

Again, Pertinax's reaction surprised him. 'I don't think much of it,' he said. 'In the first place, they'd just quarrel and fight for honours. I doubt very many of them still hold to the old virtues: they're all out for themselves. They wouldn't treat their slaves any better. Morals wouldn't improve. And at least under Claudius, talented freedmen will have a chance to contribute to society. He's been including freedmen in his administrative staff – a good thing, I think.'

They mulled this over in silence. Pertinax had a good point: the Republic wouldn't mean popular franchise by any means: only that the patricians and rich citizens would have more of the Roman pie to squabble over.

'So Scribonianus is the problem?' Demetrius prodded quietly.

Pertinax looked about almost furtively. 'Yes. He's ambitious, that man. And he's in league with Annius Vinicianus. You'll remember him: he was involved in the plot to murder Caligula.'

These people and their names give me a headache. Aloud, Demetrius said, 'Wasn't he in consideration to become emperor before the Guard 'elected' Claudius?'

'Yes, and there's the rub. He still wants to be emperor. And now he's enlisted Manius's commander to use the VII Claudia to support him! Oh, there will be fighting and horror and forced suicides out of this, I know there will!' The old man looked as if he were about to cry.

Radu reached out a reassuring hand. 'There, there: I'm sure there's something we can do.' He looked at Demetrius, questioning.

Demetrius looked back, startled. We can do something? Er, wouldn't that violate. . . ? Should we? Could we? He thought hard – and exercised his prerogative as Akashic Record Keeper.

'You want to know what to do, I take it? Whether to advise your son to risk following these conspirators, or to take the more immediate risk of opposing them?'

Pertinax nodded glumly. 'Both ways are fraught with peril. I fear for my son.'

Demetrius spoke as solemnly and impressively as he knew how, hoping that he sounded more confident than he felt. There were, after all, a lot of 'ifs' involved. 'My friend, I would advise you to instruct Manius as follows: Do nothing right now. Await further direction. And say nothing to anyone in the camp about Scribonianus, Annius, or the Emperor Claudius.'

Pertinax looked confused.

Demetrius continued, 'Leave the matter so until we can look into it. I, er, have contacts with a very wise, very powerful sybil in Dalmatia. We will go and inquire of her as to the will of the gods concerning the welfare of Rome. We will look in on Manius, and report back to both of you.'

Pertinax gasped. 'A powerful sybil is a very wonderful thing! But aren't you afraid of the danger if this were to get out? You're risking a great deal, my young friends!'

Demetrius knew what Pertinax meant. It was forbidden – on pain of very painful death – for anyone to inquire of an oracle or use divination to ask about the death of an emperor. Which, if you thought about it, made sense in the superstitious Mediterranean. Either you believed, or you didn't: but even unbelievers could be swayed by the hint of supernatural support for a change in regime. Rome had been unsettled for a relatively long time now. People were unsure what they wanted from their government, other than pretty-please no more civil war and hopefully, better harvests.

Demetrius said, 'We will be extremely cautious. If anyone asks, please tell them that we are away to visit our cousin in Epidaurum. Can you remember that? Epidaurum? Tell everyone that we've asked you to kindly look in on our household while we're gone and to see to the servants. Don't worry, they will be fine. We have an excellent staff.'

Pertinax listened attentively, sensing hope.

'We'll leave in the morning. I know a ship's captain who'll be willing to swear we got off his boat at Epidaurum, if anyone asks. But we'll head up the coast to Pietas Iulia and beyond. I will send you word once we know what we're about.'

Radu added, 'Do not fear. Tyrants flee when courageous men act, er. . . ' he rolled his eyes desperately, '. . . courageously!'

Pertinax was so moved by this that he embraced Radu. Caught off-balance, Radu thumped the water with his feet, causing a splash. The three of them laughed – Pertinax in sheer relief, Radu in embarrassment (he was trying to be all noble and Roman, after all), and Demetrius in genuine amusement. As far as he was concerned, the hardest part of this was going to be the argument he was bound to have with Alex about the whole thing.

'Let us go in and have some wine and cheese,' he suggested. 'And then to bed. We have things to do tomorrow.'

DG

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